


A Friend In Need

by SmexyWatermelon



Series: All Is Fair In Love And War [2]
Category: Thief (Video Games)
Genre: Casual Sex, Crossbow Wounds, Established Relationship, F/M, Healing, Oneshot, Rescue, Swearing, i have no idea how to tag this, rated T because Reader in my head swears a lot under pressure
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-13
Updated: 2017-04-13
Packaged: 2018-10-18 01:06:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10606122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SmexyWatermelon/pseuds/SmexyWatermelon
Summary: You got out for a nice stroll in the city... you surely weren't expecting one of your best friends arrested, an incoming riot and your thief friend having bad ideas along the rescue mission.Or: Garrett Please Heal Your Hand It's Been Four Chapters And It's Still Bleeding.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I tried to keep the ingame actions at minimum (yeah, they still account for half of this thing, I know). In case you don’t remember or want to rewatch that particularly fantastic cutscene where Garrett escapes from the architect mansion with all that stuff flying and trying to kill him, just go watch around 00:35 [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TzWVtL7whN0)

It was a night like many. It didn’t look particular at first – your usual stroll through the city, hiding in the same shady alleys, the same dumb guards to pickpocket – but then, you almost feel it, shifting in the air. A slow chaotic rustle in the background catches your attention: it was not unlike many you heard every day, but now it somehow feels different. Whispers that spoke of blood, rebellions, revolution. Three concepts you are surely too acquainted with, and that you don’t wish to see unleashed again over innocent people.

Well, not that there were _that_ many innocent people getting by around the city - still, blood streaming down the streets didn’t really appeal to you. Not anymore, at least.

You turn around the corners more swiftly, your pace quickening as you reach for Stonemarket, moving undetected among the shadows. Turmoil has somehow settled in the air, and although you still can’t tell what is wrong, something is too off for this to be a regular night. You stop a few feet away from the Crippled Burrick, standing quite far from the front of the pub, but still near enough to watch the Graven rebels patrolling the perimeter.

You can see a bit inside, just around and below the set of stairs that brought to Basso’s now trashed place, barely realizing you’re clenching your fists at your sides.  
You knew there was something fishy about that Orion. You don’t know if it was just paranoia making you suspect him, and to be honest you’re not even sure whether you’re displeased to be right, or enjoying the fact you’ll be making that scumbag pay for whatever his people have done here.  
In any case, _you fucking knew_ this would have happened. You had witnessed too many self-proclaimed ‘saviors’ in your life to fall for another one’s bullshit.  
It takes just the time for a quick reasoning to understand who to take down first – after a split second there are just unconscious bodyguards laying at your feet, and you silently move the first steps down the stairs.

“Where is it?”  
You silently approach the dark haired man rummaging through Basso’s stuff. You can’t help but wonder what’s so important to lure the leader of the Graven himself out of his shelter.

“Where did he put it!?” It isn’t here-“ he barely finishes the sentence before you tap over his shoulder: after a startled gasp, he tries to land a punch on your face, but you simply dodge to the side and wait until he tries to hit you again. You grab his wrist and exploit the momentum to throw him over the desk, making him land on his back on the hard wooden floor beyond it.  
Before he can move you vault over the desk and nimbly land on top of him, your knuckles turning white as you grab the collar of his robe and pull it lightly towards you.

“Speak. Now.”

“I-it’s a misunderstanding, my friend-“ he murmurs with a sympathizing smile plastered on his face while his hand shakily reaches for a fallen candle holder at his side, bashing it at the first chance towards your head. You simply block his blow with your forearm, grabbing then his wrist and repeatedly smashing it against the ground until he let go of it – probably breaking a couple of his hand bones in the process, but _who the hell cares._ Your free hand snaps from the robe to his throat, a small whine escaping from his lips as your fingers clench at the sides of his windpipe.  
“You’d better stop testing my patience and tell me where my friend is.”

“I-I didn’t do this-“ Your nails dig deeper in his skin and his eyes widen in fear. “I swear it-“  
You keep intently staring at him, thinking back to all the ways you were taught to make a man speak. A hour with you and he would have been revealing each and every one of his little nasty secrets.  
  
His head snaps to the side, looking at something in the shadows “G-garrett!” You raise your eyes, following his gaze to the barely visible figure standing at the threshold.  
“Evening.” You say flashing a smile, your grip on Orion’s throat still tight enough to make him realize you could have chocked him any moment now.  
“Make her stop! Please-“

You could tell he was worried too. You hadn’t seen many times the master thief with that grim look on his face.  
Not that he was less grimy when he was happy. But after spending so much time with him, you had learnt how to notice the difference between the two.  
“(y/n).” he gives you the Look. The one that says _Stop fucking around and let me handle this._

You don’t ignore it. You can’t ignore it.

You feel the urge running down your tendons to just give another good squeeze, give Orion one more reason to be honest. You simply smile at him: you know you can’t. Not after that look – Garrett would have never stopped complaining. Or attempted to stop you from chocking Orion, for that matter.  
You take in a deep breath, looking daggers at the man sprawled underneath you as you silently stand up and overstep his body, walking back in the shadows.  
“All yours.”

Orion takes a moment to massage his throat before speaking. “That book you obtained for me- it’s gone!”  
You lean against the wall, arms crossed over your chest, your presence not enough strong to interrupt Garrett but still enough to remind Orion you knew how to rip a man’s throat away in a regretfully vast number of ways.  
You stay in your place, watching the scene playing in front of you, lightly chuckling to yourself when you realize Orion hadn’t even checked for hidden safes behind the paintings.  
You were sure Basso kept that horrid-looking painting hanging just because of the safe.

You had to admit you liked watching Garrett toying with him and that goddamn book. You would have gladly burnt it or kept it instead of giving it up so easily, but after all that was the biggest difference between the two of you: he knew when to take a step back and let people think they had won.  
  
Most importantly, you had gotten a name and a place out of all of this.

Jacob. And the Baron’s Keep. With Garrett and an incoming revolution? These are either the ingredients for a disaster, or one of the most exciting nights of your life. Probably both.

You two get back in the streets together, walking side by side. You can feel his body stiffening a bit because of your sole presence, and you know what he’s going to ask you, so you simply disregard the part where he has to speak and give him a reply already.  
“I’m coming with you. And it’s not fucking negotiable.”

“It will be dangerous.”  
You raise your eyebrows and slightly turn your head. “One more reason for me to fucking tag along.” He stops in front of you, and something looking like worry flashes in his eyes for a second. “(y/n)-“ “Look, Basso is my goddamn friend too, and if you fucking want to keep up this bullshit cheeky prick attitude you’d better fuck off!”  
He knew you were too upset to listen to him whenever there was such a great amount of swear words in your sentences.

He silently turns around, and whether that was a silent acknowledgment or not you follow him in the streets and on top of the buildings anyway.

When the first explosion booms through the city, you almost feel your heart trying to jump out of your chest. This was scarily starting to look all too familiar to the situation you had left after the war had devastated your homeland and decimated your family.  
Your whole body is tense, but you know you can’t just start zoning out on a job, most of all when you are hanging around with that particularly asocial thief. Still, shivers run down your body, and although you manage to block most of the screaming faces littering your memories, some make way in the corners of your vision all the same.

You are already over the edge and the actual part of the plan where you had to do something hadn’t even started... you take in deep breaths as you follow him out of the shadows, in the plaza Orion had told you to go.  
“So, we’re at fucking Greystone, where’s this fucking-“ you see Garrett staring at something above your shoulder: you spin around, just to see the chained corpse of the man you were looking for hanging from a fountain. “…Jacob.” You exhale deeply, scratching the back of your hood.  
“What now?” you mumble as you turn back towards him, understanding from the look on his face he has a plan.  
“We pay a visit to Eastwick.”

“You mean… the architect?”  
And now breaking into one of the baron’s closest associates’ house. This night is getting funnier and deadlier by the second.  
He lightly shrugs. “If anyone knows about a backdoor inside the keep, it will be the man who built it.”

 

To be honest, breaking in the house wasn’t difficult – the ladder next to the scaffolding on the side of the building proved to be an excellent entrance point. You take a while to actually find the secret library – you two just can’t get inside a house and pretend you aren’t thrilled by the idea of getting your hands on anything laying around the place, not even if it means quickly opening safes and scaring the hell out of parrots.

When you do find the right place, getting past that suspicious looking bookshelf you had noticed as soon as you had entered the room is hilariously easy: the puzzled guard looking for clues barely sees it turning around and closing behind the two of you as you enter the secret maintenance tunnels that lead around the house.  
You have to squeeze inside the elevator to get both inside: as it slowly buzzes upwards you can’t help but notice with chagrin this was the closer you two had been in the last... well, a damn long time.

When you enter the attic, you aren’t surprised to find the architect hanging from a noose. It would have either been suicide or the rebellion, and he was too coward to face the harsh death that will be surely brought upon any of the baron’s closest co-workers in the days following the Graven’s attack.  
You look around the second floor while Garrett looks for maps or clues on the desks below. The map hanging suspiciously at the center of the room easily catches your attention: both finding and solving the puzzle doesn’t take long – it’s more a self-celebratory diorama rather than a puzzle anyway.  
You slide back down the ladder as the pavement shifts again around Garrett. You immediately walk towards the scribble-covered wall that has just appeared and pick the first map that grabs your interest, feeling the thief leaning over your shoulder to take a peek.  
“I have no idea what I’m looking at.” You neutrally admit, smiling apologetically: as Garrett is about to take the map out of your hands you see the door barging open, and your fight or flee instincts kick in, forcing you to throw yourself out of the window and on the next building, running for your dear life with the map pressed against your chest.

You barely manage to realize what’s going on as you’re leaping, dodging flaming arrows and trying not to get blinded by the guards’ lights. Suddenly you’re sliding, falling through a glass ceiling and landing on a hard wooden table. You hear Garrett landing beside you, muttering an awkward "Evening." as he leaps over a sword trying to hit him. You practically walk over someone’s face as you leap above the guards out of the room, following the blurry shade of the thief just a few steps ahead of you.

Suddenly there are even crows flying out of nowhere, and _what a fucking night so far_. You’re too distracted by them to notice Garrett had managed to stop just at the edge of the building, void in front of him. You run into his back, sending the both of you falling towards the cold hard ground.

You just remember mentally preparing to try to roll after what would have more probably been a deadly drop, when you hear a metallic clunk and feel his arm wrapping around your chest, stopping your fall. You can almost _feel_ his face blushing as the thin piece of paper is the only thing standing between his hand and your breasts.  
You grab the rope now hanging down the building, hearing Garrett embarassingly muttering ‘Sorry’ before letting go of you.

You take in deep breaths as you pass him the crumpled map, leaning with your hands on your knees as you wait for him to decipher it: you silently follow him when he gestures you to move.

Sneaking inside the courtyard of the keep was much easier than you thought. Too bad you can’t see shit beyond the thick veil of dust enveloping everything around you.  
You hear another explosion, giant pieces of debris falling from above, toppling Northcrest’s statue. Boulders are falling everywhere, raising even more dust. When one is just about to hit the two of you, you grab Garrett and tackle him away.

This looks too much like the past you’re trying to forget so hard. You barely realize you're pressing your forehead against his chest as you squeeze your eyes shut and try to get a hold of yourself again, feeling his shaky hand cupping the back of your head.  
You open your eyes again as you stifle the coughs caused by the newly raised dust, looking slightly above to meet his gaze, a very apprehensive and dusty Garrett staring back at you.

“Let’s just find Basso and get the hell out of here.” You help him up and follow him as he paces through the courtyard, stopping just in front of a crumbling set of pipes and gangplanks. You stop and stare at the narrow corridor for a very long moment before looking at him.

“ _This_ is your plan?”  
“ _Our_ plan.” He corrects you, any emotion on his face undecipherable.  
“I’m not getting in there.” You say shaking your head, knowing it’s just a denial phase you have to get through, but still, you’re _not fucking getting in there_.  
“We have to-“ “ _I know we fucking have to!_ ” you pace in a small circle, biting your lips and looking up, the fact you couldn’t see the sky anymore beyond all that ash wasn’t making things any better.  
“Okay, okay, for Basso.” You take in a deep breath, preparing to jump.  
“ _Fuck this. Fuck this. Fuck me-_ ” you mutter through gritted teeth before throwing yourself towards the already crumbling complex, landing with a metallic thud and hearing the thief following you shortly after.

You hear every snap of the metallic structure and see it detaching from its base at times, making you lose balance every three steps. You try to get those noises out of your mind to focus, but then you hear a louder noise and a startled yell.

 _Fuck._  
  
Your heels dig in the metal structure as you stop to look behind you. “Garrett!”  
“Keep moving!” A voice from below yells back.

You don’t know if he’s safe. He’s talking, so there’re good chances he might not be entirely dead.  
You gulp and press forward, climbing and leaping through the giant forest of coiling tubes. After what looked like an endless amount of time, you manage to sneak inside the building, tears blurring the edges of your vision as smoke burns down your throat. The minutes spent looking for exits and catching brief breaths of clean-ish air feel interminable. Suddenly, halfway through a corridor, you hear other frantic steps reaching from the opposite end of the hall. You can barely see his silhouette in the smoke, and you can’t help but reach for his arm with your hand before convincing yourself it’s truly him.  
“Are you alright?”  
“ _Alright_ is a strong word right now.” You say, stifling another cough.

You manage to navigate the place and find a door: when he tries the handle, there’s immediately the characteristic sound that announced a lock-picking nuisance.  
“It’s locked-“ but before he can even grab his lock picks, you have already jabbed your feet inside the door, breaking the lock out of its frame.

“The place is _on fire_! Just fucking move, you sneaky idiot!”

You barely manage to get past other two locked doors, your head feeling extremely dizzy and your eyelids heavy, but you know you have no other option than pushing onward.

When you break inside another floor, you immediately go for the elevator: as you wait for it, you realize Garrett had gone to unscrew one of those goddamn plaques he had been collecting around town off the wall.  
He paces next to you when the elevator doors open, looking quite proud of himself, if you had to be honest. “Are you even real?” He simply gives you a sideways glance and hint at a smirk before walking inside the elevator. You shake your head as you follow him inside and press one of the buttons on the control panel.

Shortly after the doors ding open, and you saunter inside the short corridor, somehow feeling more relaxed now that the air was slightly more breathable.  
“The fat one, he’s in the cells too…” You overhear some guards speaking from behind the walls. “Nobody calls that fatty boy fat but _me_.” You rant as you follow the noise of Basso sing-songing something down the hall, pulling a lever just next to his door.

When the cell door opens you can’t help but throw your arms around his neck, hearing him chuckle painfully as he reciprocates the hug. “I was going a bit crazy in here.”  
“Yeah. We heard.”

As the three of you are heading back towards the elevator, you’re simply relieved it’s almost over. You don’t lose any chance to be careful and scout ahead, but the idea of finding a safe place to sleep seeps through your thoughts more frequently than it should have.  
You don’t really focus on the conversation, too busy trying to ignore that darn headache that was painfully forming in the back of your head.  
A strange silence settles between Garrett and Basso, and when you see him walking towards the other elevator, the one that solely brought up towards the top of the tower, you can’t help but fear for what he’s going to do.

“What’re you up to? Oh, wait, wait, wait! You’re not thinking about those tall tales about the legendary great safe, are you?”  
“You’re not doin’ it!” you laugh, hoping so hard it is just a joke you aren’t getting.

He looks back at the two of you, the same way he always does when he has a bad idea.  
_Fuck, he’s doing it._  
It doesn’t happen often, but damn, his bad ideas are generally something catastrophic.

 _Now? Now that we had re-established something resembling a channel of communication, now you’re deciding you want to fucking risk your life like this?!_  
You’d like to try to make him reason, but you know it’s pointless.  
“Look, Garrett, no one is paying you to risk your neck for this.” Something shifts in his gaze. He must know it’s stupid too.  
“It’s not about the payment. It’s who I am.”

You’re not going with him. That safe is simply a huge ‘nope’ on your notebook, especially during a night like this. And yet, you know he knows. You know he won’t ask you to come. You know his stupid self-confidence won’t even make him say goodbye, just in case something _does_ happen.  
You simply manage to stare at him, wondering if this is the last time you’ll see him alive.

“If you get out of there- I mean, _when_ you’ll get out of there…” Basso awkwardly scratches the back of his neck as Garrett gets inside the elevator. “I’ll be at the Siren’s Rest.”  
He nods once towards him before looking at you, not even sure what he was expecting to happen.  
You smile at him, and he can swear there are tears in your eyes, something you will surely blame the smoke for if he asked you about it.  
“Don’t get too dead.” You quietly murmur as the elevator doors ding closed between the two of you.

 

You didn’t know what you were exactly doing at the clock tower. Garrett would have probably gone to meet Basso first anyway as soon as he was out of the keep. _If_ he got out of the keep.  
It would have been all so easier if that _If_ wasn’t followed by so many others, equally terrifying, ifs. What if he got out of the keep just to get killed in one of the fights around the city? What if the thief-catcher was on his tail again? What if another set of giant boulders started falling out of nowhere and you weren’t there to tackle him out of danger?

If. If. If.

They all brought to that dreaded question you had been asking yourself for an entire year. “What if he did die?”

A life without him… easier. Emptier.  
You had already had a taste of what it would have been like for the last year. And you knew last year sucked.

Taking refuge in the clock tower had always felt safer, during those interminable twelve months. It still does, now. You had felt so heart-broken when the clock had stopped working, just hearing the gears in motion again was a relief. It reminded you of all the days spent together, all the training, and planning, and sex this place had seen.  
And just the idea of losing this regularly ticking perfection again was unbearable.

You exhale deeply as you press your chin against your knees, your arms winding tighter around your legs.  
“Please… just make him come back alive.”  
The heavy burden on your chest eases when you hear noises coming from below, clearly someone climbing up the tower.  
The noises cease for a moment: you close your eyes and take in a deep breath as you hear silent steps approaching you.

“Missed me?”  
You open your eyes again, skimming that reckless idiot standing in front of you: wounded, completely covered in sooth and ash, too pleased with himself for your tastes, but alive nonetheless.

“Don’t get too excited. I was just choosing what stuff I would have picked up in case you didn’t make it.” _As a side note, I’m so fucking glad you’re here._

You stand up, needing just to take a couple of steps closer to see where all that blood was coming from.  
“What about that?” You say, nudging at his hand.  
He grimaces as he painfully flexes his fingers. “A token from our dear thief-catcher.”  
You pace next to him and grab his hand, inspecting his blood-soaked palm. “It’s not as bad as it looks. I can patch it, but if you don't slow down a bit the wound will just open up again. I know asking you to rest is- well, ridiculous, but... could you try, at least?”  
He shrugs. "I'll do my best." You exhale deeply, knowing that was his elegant version of _'No, can't do'._

He paces past you and sits on the bed, slowly undoing the straps and knots on his left forearm to remove the glove.  
You fish a match out of one of the bags hanging from your belt and light a candle on top of the desk with it, opening next to it the small first aid kit you always brought with you in case things went sour. You take out of it a small needle and hover it just above the flame to sterilize it.  
You manage to find a piece of clean clothing and a little basin filled with water, along with a bottle of aged whiskey.

You pass him the bottle as you sit next to him. He obediently lets you take a look at his palm: it looked like the dart had pierced right through his hand. “How did exactly things go this bad?”  
He takes a big sip of deliciously-aged alcohol before replying. “Quickly.”

You carefully clean the wound, the two sharp cuts left by the sides of the dart clearly visible on his flesh. You reach for thread and needle as you speak “I know you won’t tell me. But I have to ask-“ You take the whiskey bottle from his hands and pour a little quantity of it on the needle, figuring it won’t hurt to overdo things. “What the hell is going on, Garrett?”  
No answer comes from him.

Without warning, you douse his hand in alcohol, a painful hiss escaping his lips as he clenches his other hand against the mattress. “You disappear for a year, without telling nothing to no bloody anybody, and then present yourself at Basso’s doorstep with a new, ravishing glowing eye.” You start closing the wound, luckily enough the dart was small and it didn’t need more than a couple of stitches per side. “And now you run around the city, chasing for ghosts, telling nobody what you are going after as usual...” When you're finished you take the roll of bandage and delicately start wrapping a layer of it around his wound, making sure it was tight enough to stay put. “I don’t want to pry, okay? You have your own fricking life, I have mine... I get it, you don’t like to share. But now things are getting out of hand.”  
You carefully finish bandaging his hand, your fingertips lingering on his palm as your other hand caresses the back of it.

“Just tell me. You know I can help.” _Like I always did. Like I will always do._

His fingers curl closed as his hand slips away from yours. “I want you to stay out of it.” You turn your head towards him. “Why?” You didn’t know about the nightmares. You didn’t know about Erin crawling every day inside his mind, and he was determined to die before sharing it with anybody.  
You silently look at him, waiting for an answer he isn’t sure he wants to give you.  
You close your eyes and stand up, determined to leave, when he finally replies to you.  
“It’s for your own sake.”

You snap at that comment. “Don’t talk to me like you know what’s best- I know what that is, and it’s not losing friends because they’re too stubborn to admit they need help!”  
You turn around, just looking at him was making you mad. “No fucking risking my life, no listening to you. No matter what I do, I simply _can’t win_ with you.”  
“(y/n)-“ You feel his hand reaching for your arm, but you yank it away. “No! Just- no.”  
He grabs your shoulder – tighter, this time – and turns you around, making you face him. Seeing you aren’t still looking at him, he cups your cheek, but you are too stubborn to give in and shift your gaze sideways.

“Whatever I do, it will never be enough for you.”  
He doesn’t say he’s sorry. He isn’t sorry. This is what he is, and albeit you hate admitting it, you would never want him to change for anything in the world.  
“Do you know how it feels, always having to witness someone trying to self-destruct, and being unable to help them?”  
  
“I do.”  
Your eyes meet his for a moment before you lower your gaze. You shut your eyes and take in a deep breath, holding it for a moment before releasing it.  
“What do you want me to do?”

He stares at you for a moment before closing the gap between you, softly pressing his lips against yours. You find yourself leaning into it, deepening it, wanting more, almost biting him, but he doesn’t seem to mind. The only thing he feared most was losing this feeble link you two had developed over the course of months, and until you hanged around – even if it was mostly disturbing his way of working – he knew you still cared. And that was far more than enough for him.  
"Just stay."  
  
You push him back on the bed, straddling him, and resume your kiss. You take a while to slip out of your leather clothing, but by now you perfectly know how to undo the knots and straps on each other's armors.  
Your nails leave long scratchmarks along his back as he sinks deep inside of you, your hips meeting his with every thrust.  
He always liked taking his time, slowly driving you over the edge, but never had you felt like he needed you this badly. For once it was not another casual fuck that happened during an argument, but you weren't sure what it was. Calling it 'something more' was simply delusional, but surely it was something different.  
Maybe he really was more upside-down than what he let on.  
  
  
You stay there for a while afterwards, trying so hard to forget about the world currently crumbling to pieces just outside the window, but knowing you had to face it again sooner or later. Somehow, listening to his heart beating inside his chest helps you relax. You keep your eyes closed as he traces random patterns on your skin with his fingertips.  
“You don’t trust me.” You murmur, craking your eyelids open.  
He slightly shakes his head. “It’s not true.” You raise your head a bit to look at him. “But… you aren’t telling me anyway, are you?”  
“Can I just be plain selfish for once and ask you to stop prying?” You can't help but smile. “Yeah, like this is the first time you’re being reserved about anything…”

He’s about to say something, but you simply raise your palms to stop him as you sit up “No, whatever, it’s fine. Do what you want, just-“ You were about to stand up, but decide to grab the back of his head and press another kiss on his mouth instead. You part the little you need to speak. “Come back to me in one piece. Please.” You quickly put on your clothes, some straps still hanging loose but you prefer leaving the place quickly than having to deal with more awkward silences. You smile towards him before pacing towards the steep path that brought to the exit.  
You jump on the lower level of the tower, disappearing from view, yelling back something you know he would have surely forgotten about.  
“And change regularly the goddamn bandages before your hand rots, or no more master thief for you.”

 

The Siren’s Rest wasn’t one of your favorite places: if you had to drink you generally did it in the safety of your home, and the Crippled Burrick had funnier and more interesting customers, but if Basso had decide to lay low here, so be it.

“The sneaky idiot already came talking to you?” you asked as you lowered the beer tankard on the table after taking a quick sip.  
“Mmmh. Troubles in paradise?”  
You just can’t help but laugh at the paragon of your relationship with Garrett and the standard ideal of marriage. You loudly chuckle for a while, stopping then to take in a deep breath. “I fucking hate you.” You say with a smile plastered on your face, lightly shaking your head as you take another - _bigger_ \- sip of beer.

“Where does he want to go next? No wait- don’t tell me, I would just get angry. But I wanna know- But-“ “He wants to check out Moira Asylum.” You stiffly nod once in acknowledgment. “...and now I’m angry again.” You exhale deeply as you sink in your seat, slightly closing your eyes.

“He’ll admit it someday.”  
“What?”  
“How much he cares about you.”  
You smile as you shake your head, your fingertip tracing the line of a deep scratch along the side of your mug. “I’m not drunk enough for this.”  
“We can fix that!” Basso says with a smile, as he gestures the bartender to bring more beer to the table.  
“This is why I always end up sticking with you, Basso.” You raise your mug and clink it against his, toasting. “My only associate of the ‘Stop Garrett from being a sneaky jerk’ club.”

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry if I’m missing something somewhere from the game, I’m (barely) checking the pieces I’m missing and I haven’t played the reboot in a year at least :/


End file.
